


Bad Game of Pool

by HazelDomain



Series: Dean Wants it from Everybody 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Dean Thinks He is Heterosexual, Dean gets raped in a bar, Double Penetration, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gang Rape, Gangbang, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Nothing but smut, PWP, Slurs, That's honestly the whole story, Top everyone else, Verbal Humiliation, Violated but enjoying it, spnkink_meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 04:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5992357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rule number one of hustling pool: don't let your marks know they've been hustled. They don't like it, and tend to retaliate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Game of Pool

“Double’r nuthin,” Dean slurred, laying his last fifty dollars on the table. The other three men exchanged glances. They were in their mid thirties, old enough to know better, and Dean could tell they were feeling guilty about taking advantage of a kid ten years their junior.

Dean smiled at them, not the winning smile, the other one, the cocky one, the one that made people want to put him in his place.

“C’mon, you gonna play or not, ya bunch of p- _pussies._ ”

Now they were rolling their eyes, and Dean knew he was golden.

“Alright, kid. One more round of shots and then we’ll go again.”

One of them, a tall blonde, motioned to the bartender, who’d been watching disinterestedly for the last twenty minutes. The bar was quiet, even for a Tuesday night. There had been a band earlier, but they hadn’t gathered much of a crowd and had packed up more than an hour ago, taking most of the patrons with them. Dean’s marks had stuck around, joined only by a middle-aged couple in the corner who seemed content to sit quietly and race each other toward death by cirrhosis.

The bartender set the drinks on the table nearest them.

Dean grabbed for the shot glass and missed. He managed to spill half the whiskey over his hand before tipping the remainder into his mouth. He stuck his tongue out, shaking his head as though the fiery liquid wasn’t a taste he’d gotten used to years ago.

“Man, that stuff is _good_ ,” he said, grinning at his companions like he was letting them in on a joke. It wasn’t good. It was terrible. But it was cheap, and Dean was there because he needs the money. The men smirked at each other. One of them, this one with dark hair, offered to break. He was more than a little toasted himself, and his hand was shaky on the cue when he aimed. The break was weak. Dean suppressed a grin.

The couple in the corner paid their bill and shuffled out. Dean played it slow, missing shots as often as he sunk them to avoid suspicion. But it was getting late and he was tired. The others took too long to line up their shots. He got impatient. He showed off.

When he sunk the first ball, there was good natured grumbling. On the second one, the dark-haired man clapped him on the back and laughed about the lucky shot. On the third shot, there was incredulous laughter. By the fifth and final sink, the men were staring at him darkly. They knew they’d been played.

Dean put his cue back on the rack, picking up the stack of rumpled bills from their place by the chalk. The drunken stumble melted out of his gait as he approached the bar. The bartender glowered at him when he paid his tab.

“Not in my bar, sonny,” he said as he counted out change. “It’s bad for business.”

“Sorry old man,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I won’t be in town long anyway.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

He could hear the other men come up behind him, but when he turned around he was startled to see how _close_ they were standing.

“No hard feelings, guys. Just a friendly game.”

“Yeah,” says the dark haired man. “Only I figure you got more than seven hundred bucks in your pocket. Last time I paid seven hundred bucks for a friendly game, it got a whole lot more _friendly,_ if you catch my drift.”

“Whoa, man. That’s not part of the bet. I mean, good luck in your search, but count me out.”

Dean tried to slide past them, but the blonde caught his arm.

“I like what he said. Tell you what, kid. Suck my cock and I’ll let you go, no hard feelings.”

The other two men snickered, and Dean regarded the blonde silently for a second, trying to figure out if he was serious. He looked serious. Dean took a swing at him.  

Dean was used to fighting more than one person. He could hold his own against John and Sammy together, when they practiced. He and Sam could take as many as four if they worked together. But three was too many to handle alone, and he took two hard hits to the ribs before the bartender put a stop to it.

Dean didn’t think he’d ever been so glad to hear a shotgun cock.

“It’s too damn late to be cleaning up after one of your scuffles,” the old man said gruffly.

“Thanks,” Dean started to say, but the bartender cut him off.

“None of your bullshit, kid. They got a valid gripe with you and I’m not saying they don’t. I’m just not interested in having any of my furniture broken over it. You started it, I’m finishing it. Hands behind your back.”

“… what?”

“ _Now._ ”

Very slowly, not taking his eyes off the gun, Dean put his hands behind his back. The third man stepped up close behind him, wrapping his wrists with what felt like a belt. Dean’s mouth went dry.

“You can’t just-”

“Shut up,” the man behind him said, and Dean heard a switchblade flipping open. It pressed very lightly to the skin under his jaw. The bartender sighed, dropping the shotgun onto the bar.  
“I’m going home. Lock up when you’re done.”

Dean’s hands twitched. The blonde man went to the front of the building, shutting off the lights and locking the door behind the departing bartender. Dean saw the man look over his shoulder just before the blinds flicked shut.

“Eyes front, bitch,” the dark haired man snapped. Dean looked up, meeting his eyes with disdain. “Here’s how this is gonna go. You’re gonna put that pretty little mouth to work, and in exchange, we’ll forgive this mistake of yours. Even let you keep the money.”

“I’m not a whore,” Dean spat. “Get your kicks somewhere else.”

The man behind him landed a kick into the back of his calf, guiding him to his knees when his leg buckled. Dean found himself face to face with the dark man’s belt buckle. The man behind him was pressed along the length of his back, forcing him forward.

The dark haired man unzipped his jeans, pulling out his half-hard cock. He stroked it slowly, the tip only a few inches from Dean’s face.

“What are you waiting for? Get to it.”

“Bite me,” Dean growled, then hissed as the knife bit into his throat.

“Wanna try that one again?” the man behind him asked. Dean thought desperately. There’s no way he’d be able to do this. He’d looked at a guy or two in his life, been a little curious, sure. But he’d thought that if this day came, he wouldn’t be the one on his knees.

“Last chance,” he dark haired man intoned. The man behind him was solid and warm, pressed against him in a way Dean was trying very hard not to find appealing. The man reached around, cupping Dean’s jaw and forcing his mouth open. Dean clenched his eyes as he felt the cockhead pressing against his parted lips.

He could do this.

He opened his mouth and felt the man’s hard length slide into him. His fingers knotted in Dean’s hair, holding his head still as he buried his cock in Dean’s mouth.

“That is so fucking hot,” the man behind him murmured. Dean could feel the man’s erection pressing against his bound hands. Before he could think about it, he’d twisted his hands to palm the other man’s cock through his jeans.

“ _Fuck,”_ the man muttered, grinding into Dean from behind. “This little slut wants it _bad._ ”

“He’s getting hard,” the blonde man observed. The dark haired man stopped, pulling his cock from Dean’s mouth to look down at him. Dean flushed, going red from his face all the way to his shoulders.

“Holy shit, you’re right. You like this, whore?” The man’s cock was pressing into his mouth again, deeper, pressing against the back of his throat. “You like sucking that nice thick cock?”

 _“No!”_ Dean tried to say, but all that came out was a muffled moan. The blonde crouched beside him, pressing his palm against Dean’s crotch. Dean moaned again, his face burning. He didn’t want it to feel good when the man began to stroke him. He tried to push away, but only succeeded in nestling more deeply into the arms of the man behind him.

“Easy there, tiger,” the man crooned in his ear. “We’ll take care of you.”

The dark man’s fingers were carding through Dean’s hair, holding him still as he fucked leisurely into the younger man’s mouth.

“Let me try,” the blonde muttered, fumbling at the fly of his slacks.

“Wait your turn.”

Dean’s throat was burning and tight. Each stroke buried the man’s cock into the back of his throat. It was all he could do to try to breathe around the onslaught. He could feel a strand of saliva running down his chin. His dick perked up when he imagined what he must look like, hands bound and sucking cock on his knees like this.

“Give him both,” the man behind him muttered. “He can do it. No way he’s got a mouth like that and doesn’t know how to suck two cocks at once.”

“Yeah?” The dark haired man pulled out, letting the head of his cock rest on Dean’s lower lip. Dean looked up at him, hoping to hell he didn’t look as frightened as he felt.

The fear dissolved into embarrassment when the man behind him reached around, plucking Dean’s shirt out of his pants and sliding his hand down past the waistband. Dean could feel his face turning red as the man’s hand tightened around his shaft, working it slowly.

“How about it, slut? Think you could suck us both?”

The blonde didn’t wait for an answer, just moved up beside his friend. His cock was longer and not as thick, and the hair at the base was a burnished gold.

A thumb brushed over the head of Dean’s cock, smearing the precome building there. Dean moaned and leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the blonde man’s cock and sucking.

“Oh, fuck yeah, that’s good. Suck me off, sweetheart.”

The man behind him was grinding into his bound hands, and Dean let him set the rhythm, taking the blonde man’s cock deeper into his mouth with each stroke. He pressed his tongue up against the base, and was rewarded with a hiss.

“Alright, alright, my turn.”

Fingers knotted in his hair, pulling him off the blonde man. Before he could catch his breath, the other man’s cock was pressing into his mouth again. Dean moaned, taking it as deep as it would go. The hand around his cock was driving him mad. He felt something at his waist, but he couldn’t drop his face to look.

The sound of ripping was accompanied by the feel of cool air on his chest and belly. He winced when fingers found his nipple, tweaking hard.

“He liked _that,_ ” the man behind him muttered when his cock twitched in response. The fingers tweaked him again, and a shiver ran all the way down his spine. He moaned, and the fingers in his hair tightened in response.

“Fuck, I’m gonna- _fuck!_ ”

Dean felt hot, salty liquid filling his mouth and pooling at the back of his tongue. He tried to pull back, but the man’s hands were in his hair, holding him still and forcing him to take every drop.

“I’m gonna pull out, and you’re gonna swallow it,” the dark haired man commanded, and Dean glared up at him. Tears blurred his vision and he hated it, hated himself and his body for betraying him.

He spat the bitter liquid onto the floor, and got backhanded for his trouble. Any further signs of impudence were stifled when the blonde’s dick was stuffed into his mouth again.

“That’s it, I’m fucking him,” the man behind him said, pulling away and leaving Dean suddenly cold. “Get him ready, I’ll be right back.”

Dean’s eyes widened and when the blonde withdrew he bolted, scrambling to his feet and twisting desperately at the leather strap binding his wrists.

“Not so fast there,” the blonde laughed, catching him by the arm and pulling him back. Dean overbalanced and would have fallen if it weren’t for the two pairs of hands holding him tight. He kicked out at them but they dodged easily.

“You’ve had your fucking _fun_ ,” he muttered. “Just take the money and go.”

“Oh, kid, we’ve just barely gotten _started,_ ” the dark haired man laughed. “Normally we’d just pass you around a bit to teach you a lesson, but you, _you,_ you’re special. You _like_ this and that’s a rare opportunity we intend to exploit to the fullest.”

“Fuck you. The fuck makes you think I’m into any part of this?”

“Other than the pretty little noises you make while you’re sucking cock?” Dean’s face burned. “Or the fact that you’re hard enough to pound nails?” The blonde’s hand slipped between Dean’s legs, palming his erection through his pants. “Mostly, I think you’re into it because you’re gonna cum at least twice before we’re done here.”

Dean pulled away again, but the arms holding him were like iron. He struggled uselessly as they dragged him to a nearby table, forcing his face down onto the lacquered surface and holding him there. The belt around his wrists loosened and he sunk a fist into something soft before he was overpowered and bound again, more securely this time, his arms crossed behind his back, wrist to elbow. The ripped remains of his shirt were gone, leaving his skin bare to the cool surface of the table. Hands were pressed into his shoulders, holding him down.

“Okay, got it,” the third man said, slamming the door as he returned from wherever he’d been.

“Took you long enough,” the dark haired man muttered. “We doing it like this?”

“Nah, turn him,” the blonde responded, and then Dean was being manhandled onto his back. From this position it was easier to kick at his captors, at least until he felt the press of the blade against his lower belly. He stilled, sneering up at the man holding it.

“Don’t be like that. We’ll make it good for you.”

“None of this is good. I’m _straight._ ”

“Yeah, we can tell.”

The blonde pulled at his shoulders, sliding him along the table until his head hung off the edge.

“Open up, slut,” the blonde crooned, pressing his cockhead against Dean’s pursed lips. Dean clenched his jaw and considered biting the man, at least until the point of the butterfly knife began tracing a meaningful trail down his belly. Blinking back tears, he opened his lips and let the blonde slide into his mouth. With his head tilted back he could take the man’s cock much further into his throat, and the blonde pushed in until his balls were pressed against Dean’s nose.

One of the men was between his legs, spreading his thighs and holding them down. The other man was working at the laces of his boots, pulling them off one at a time. With that done, the man between his legs fumbled at Dean’s jeans, popping the button and unzipping them before pulling them down over Dean’s hips. Dean writhed, his eyes burning with tears, as they pulled the last of his clothing off, leaving him naked and achingly hard. Fingers traced over the insides of his thighs, his cock, his ass, his balls. He moaned and was rewarded with a particularly deep thrust from the man in his mouth. He heard the snap of a bottle cap, and a second later he flinched as something cool and slick pressed against his perineum.

“What do you want to bet I can make him cum from being fingered?”

Dean moaned and twisted, but he was held too tight. His cock twitched, raising chuckles from the men holding him. Being so hard was starting to get painful, and he hated that he wanted one of the men to stroke him.

The slick digit moved downwards, rubbing slowly against the puckered skin of his hole. It pressed insistently into him, and Dean gasped when he felt it push in, burying to the knuckle in one easy slide.

“Done this before, slut?”

Dean clenched his eyes shut, thinking of the times he’d touched himself like this, or used toys while jerking off. They could tell that he’d practiced this, and shame burned through him. At least the cock in his mouth kept him from having to answer the question.  

A second slick finger joined the first, twisting inside him and stretching him open. He arched up, trying to find some friction against his neglected hard on. The fingers inside him rubbed against his prostate, making his breath catch. The fingers paused, then curled upwards, rubbing against that spot and making him crazy with need. He laved his tongue over the head of the cock in his mouth, sucking and licking, afraid of what he’d beg for if the man pulled out.

A third finger was inside him now, fucking him slowly and pulling him open with a _full_ feeling that was making him desperate to cum.

“You like that? Spreading your legs like a whore and being fucked open in front of strangers?”

Dean moaned and arched and struggled, but hands held him down, tight around him everywhere except where he needed them.

“Cum for me and I’ll give you my cock.”

A thrill ran through Dean’s body, wanting it and hating himself for wanting it, and then the fingers in him twisted and he was coming, rope after rope of warm cum landing across his chest. The sight set off the blonde man, and then Dean was swallowing, sucking every drop out of the long thick cock in his mouth. His throat contracted around the cockhead, pulling moans out of the other man.

“Lick it clean,” the blonde ordered him, and at the same time, the fingers withdrew and something blunt and slick was pressing against his ass. He licked and sucked at the salty cock in his mouth, choking back a sob as the other man’s erection pressed into him. The man was huge, bigger than any of Dean’s toys, and he felt a burning pressure as he was slowly filled up.

“That’s right, take it all.”

The dark haired man pushed the blonde out of the way, replacing the softening cock with a hard one, and then Dean was getting fucked from both ends. Each thrust pushed him deeper onto both of them, and there was nothing he could do but relax his body and take it. Hands were roving over his body, caressing, scratching. Someone pinched a nipple, making an appreciative noise when it hardened at the touch.

“God, that’s hot,” the blonde muttered. “Look at him, he’s already getting hard again. He’s fucking _loving_ this.”

“Ah, to be young again,” the third man said wistfully, and the three of them laughed. Dean started when hot, slick hands settled on his cock, plying it with firm strokes until he was fully hard again. He thrust up into the touch, no longer caring how he looked.

“Do that thing with your thumb again. Every time you do that he- _oh, god, yeah._ Every time you do that he _squeezes._ ”

“Trade me, I want to feel.”

The dark haired man pulled out and Dean stretched his jaw. His face was smeared with cum and tears, and he couldn’t even bring himself to beg them to stop, not after what they’d seen. In his peripheral, he could see the dark haired man tearing a condom open with his teeth, rolling it impatiently over the head of his cock.

“Pay attention, slut,” the third man said, slapping him lightly and pressing the head of his dick against Dean’s parted lips. His skin was powdery, and tasted of latex. It was hot in his mouth, and Dean flushed when he realized it was his own body heat. A moment later the other man’s cock was driving into his ass, thicker and longer than the one in his mouth. He groaned as he felt himself stretching to accommodate the unfamiliar size.

The hand on his cock picked up speed and he bucked into it, seeking the friction. Another hand slid between his legs, fondling his balls, and Dean moaned. He felt weightless, too many hands on him, brain overloading from the signals coming from his mouth and ass and cock and nipples and balls. It was too much and he stilled, relaxing, letting it happen to him. His body undulated, adjusting to the pushes and pulls of the men surrounding him.

“I think he’s gonna come again.”

“Told you he would. What did I say? The little whore loves it. The blonde man tweaked a nipple again. “Could tell just by looking at you that one cock wouldn’t be enough.” Dean moaned, trying to protest, but it was lost when the dark haired man groaned, burying himself deep into Dean’s abused ass. Dean thought about the man’s cum filling him, how the other two were watching with appreciation as Dean took it up the ass, hard and leaking so he couldn’t deny that he loved it. The thought took him over the edge and he came again, the slippery ejaculate spilling over the hands stroking him. The touch quickly became overwhelming on his cock and he moaned, trying to jerk his hips away and failing.

“You want his ass again?” the dark haired man offered.

“Sure.”

The third man circled the table, pushing Dean’s thighs apart and burying his spit-slick cock into his hole. Dean let out a sob, biting his lip to keep from making any noises. His body was sore and his arms were starting to fall asleep, and he was relieved when the man came hard, buried balls-deep inside him. The other two had wiped themselves down and zipped back up, and were finishing their beers while they watched their friend finish with Dean.

The man pulled out, leaving Dean leaking and empty. He grabbed the younger man by the hair, hauling him into a sitting position on the table. Dean didn’t meet his eyes. The man ran a thumb across his cheek, wiping at the tears forming there.

“You did real good, kid. You ever want another _friendly game,_ you know where to find us.”

He flicked the butterfly knife open again, making sure Dean could see it. And then he set it on the table to the left of Dean’s hip.

“Bar opens in ten hours. I suggest you cut yourself loose and be gone by then.”

Dean stared at the knife, his vision blurring. He could feel hot cum leaking out of him, pooling on the table. His whole body was wet and sticky and he wanted to be back in his motel room, showered clean and lying to Sam about why he was late.

He inched toward the knife as the men gathered their belongings and headed for the door. Right before they left, the blonde turned back. He pulled a twenty from his pocket, folding it into thirds and laying it under the knife.

“Just a tip,” he explained. “For helping me win the bet.”

And then they were gone.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the bottom of the fic. If you could drop a kudo or a note to let me know you made it this far, it'd help. I have this mental image of people getting disgusted in the middle of my fics and spending the rest of their lives telling people the story of the Worst Fanfiction They've Ever Read. 
> 
> This was based off an SPNkink_meme that you can read here: http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/106950.html?thread=40325062#t40325062
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: what happened to Dean in this story was rape. Even if he liked it, it's still rape. This is a recurring issue that comes up in my fics, and I always want to make it clear that this is a work of fiction. This is not behavior which you should attempt to emulate in real life. If your partner is saying no, crying, or pulling away, that means STOP unless it's a scenario you've agreed on beforehand, with a safe word. Arousal is not consent. Ever.


End file.
